Nephilim 2: Old Friends and New
by SpencerRemyLvr
Summary: a two-shot sequel to my story, Nephilim
1. Chapter 1

This is a sequel to my story "Nephilim" so I recommend you read that, first, though really all you need to know is that Spencer Reid is a nephilim. Now, this is my first foray into Supernatural, so please, be kind. I'm trying my best. If the characters are OOC, let me know! I always welcome advice/criticism so long as it's not rude, y'know? :) Now, this is a two-shot and this first part is set mid-season four, no real special time in there. Basically, it's after Dean got out of Hell, but before Lucifer gets free, so any spoilers up to and around there, I guess, though I don't think there is any. And, of course, keep in mind this is AU, obviously. :)

Please let me know what you think! I'm hoping I do okay. And I'll have the second part up soon!

**Part One: Old Friends…**

Time off was a rare thing at the Bureau. In all his years with the BAU, Spencer had rarely had a successful extended period of time off. The last time they'd tried to take a real vacation, the whole team, hadn't exactly ended well. The Fisher King case was one that none of them would forget. Since that entire disaster, the team hadn't taken a group vacation. Individual ones, yes, but not a vacation for the whole team. Not until now. Today was the start of a week-long vacation that Aaron assured them they wouldn't be called back from unless there was an absolute emergency. By unspoken agreement, none of those that had been around for the Fisher King case mentioned anything about the emergencies that had brought them back the last time.

Spencer checked the clock on the wall for the third time in the past hour. Only ten more minutes to go. Ten minutes and then he was out of here for the next seven days.

The sound of footsteps brought Spencer's attention away from the clock in just enough time for him to see his best friend come strolling up towards his desk. "So what are you gonna do with your time off, pretty boy? Got any big plans?" Derek asked him once he got close.

Spencer flushed ever so slightly at the nickname, just like he always did. The grin Derek gave said he'd noticed it and gotten the reaction he wanted. The brat. He'd taken Spencer on as a sort of surrogate sibling all those years ago when Spencer had first joined the team and that hadn't changed over the years. If anything, the bond had become stronger. In Derek's mind, that gave him the right to do all the teasing in the world. If Spencer were honest, he'd admit that he didn't mind it, not really. He liked the feeling of having a friend that he could count on and that he knew cared about him. The way that Derek teased him left him feeling accepted, not ostracized, like he did when others teased him. He knew there was no malice behind any of Derek's jokes. He'd also grown comfortable enough to actually tease back now and again. Or, at least, comfortable enough that he had no trouble now rolling his eyes at his friend and ignoring the nickname. "I do, actually." He answered. "I'm going to visit an old friend."

He should've known his words would spark Derek's curiosity. "Old friend?" Face alight with interest, he pushed at the folders on Spencer's desk, making just enough room that he could sit on the edge.

Amused, Spencer rolled his eyes and readjusted the folders that Derek had moved. "Yes, Morgan. Shocking though it may be for you to hear, I did have a life before I joined the Bureau."

Warm laughter spilled from Derek. He grinned down at Spencer, not in the least bit bothered by the slightly dry tone that usually accompanied Spencer's rare bits of humor or by the slightly rude sound of the statement. Not many people seemed to catch on to the socially awkward man's attempts at humor. Usually it seemed to drift right past them. People seemed to assume that he didn't have a sense of humor at all, most of the time. Derek was one of the very few people to actually catch on to Spencer's particular brand of humor. It was subtle and often dry, going right over people's heads, but once you caught on to it, it could be wicked and sharp. You just had to take the time to pay attention and notice it. Derek took the time. He made a show of settling in more, the very image of someone ready to start prying for information, the mischievousness in his eyes completely at odds with his laid back tone as he oh-so-casually said, "Ohh, someone from your college days, huh?"

A reluctant laugh tickled in Spencer's throat. "Yes." He deliberately kept his answer short just to irritate his friend.

"You two must be _good_ friends if you've kept in contact all these years."

This time Spencer didn't stop the laugh from coming out. The sly tone to Derek's voice was such it was obvious what he was implying. The man had no idea just how far from the truth he was. Spencer's laugh bubbled out of him and had not only Derek, but Emily who was nearby at her desk, smiling at him. It wasn't often that they got to hear Spencer relax and laugh like that. The young genius shook his head and closed the final folder in front of him. He set it down with the stack of other ones and then moved those over to his outbox. Then, still smiling, he pushed up from his chair. He met Derek's stare head on, something he wasn't known for doing, and let his humor show on his face. Purposely, he ignored Derek's previous comment, partially because he didn't want to end up explaining things and partially because it was amusing to let the man draw his own conclusions. "I better be going if I want to make good time. You have a good vacation, Morgan."

"You too, kid. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Derek said teasingly, flicking at Spencer's hair and laughing when the man swatted at his hand.

Snagging his sweater off the back of his chair, Spencer pulled it on and then grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. A quick moment was spared to drop his files off up with Aaron and to wish his boss a good vacation, then another moment to say goodbye to Emily, and Spencer was out the door and heading away from the Bureau, perfectly happy with the thought that he wouldn't step foot back in here for a week. It'd been almost a year since the last time he'd gone to see Bobby Singer. If all things went right and they were able to iron out a few, little things, Spencer was looking forward to spending the week catching up with his old friend.

CXCX

Spencer was still chuckling over Derek's words an hour later when he was packing his bags. If only Derek realized just who Spencer's friend was. There never had been and never would be anything romantic between him and Bobby. They were friends, good friends, and nothing more. That is, if they would still be able to count one another as friends. Spencer wasn't sure. That was partly the reason behind this trip. He'd put it off for long enough. It was time to go and see his old friend and find out just where they stood.

He hadn't seen Bobby for a year and though that wasn't unusual at all, it usually wasn't by design like this. Spencer hadn't ever actively avoided going to see Bobby. Not since the beginning of their friendship when they were both still unsure of one another, a hunter and a supernatural 'creature' forming a friendship that, in both their worlds, really shouldn't exist. But he'd been avoiding Bobby ever since the night his Father had let him know that _it_ was starting; the Righteous Man had gone to Hell and soon, he'd rise again. The beginning of the end.

It was hard for Spencer to stay back when he knew his friend was hurting. When Bobby had called his cell phone, the throwaway phone he had solely for emergencies, it had been extremely hard for Spencer to have to apologize and tell Bobby that, no, he knew no way to break a demon deal and that he couldn't help him. Spencer hadn't spoken to him since then. He hadn't spoken to him the entire time that Dean Winchester was in Hell and he hadn't spoken to him ever since the man's resurrection. Cold though it may be, and difficult, self-preservation had kept him away. The last thing Spencer wanted was an accidental encounter with an angel. There was more than just his friendship with Bobby at stake here. He had to think of himself here, too, and the risk of spending time with a person who had most likely met an angel or two now.

Spencer knew his shields _should_ hold up just fine. If he could successfully mask his Grace from his own father, he could definitely mask it from the little Angel of Thursday that his father said was traveling with the Winchesters. Plus, it wasn't like he ever really spent time around those two. He'd managed to avoid ever having to meet the brothers in all the years that he'd been friends with Bobby. It was just…Spencer sighed. At least to himself he had to be honest here. It wasn't that he was afraid of running into anyone else while there. It was that he was afraid of what was going to happen with Bobby.

For their entire friendship, Bobby had been trying to figure out what Spencer was. It was kind of a game for them. Spencer had never confirmed what he was when he and Bobby had met, only insisting that he wasn't a threat. Bobby had taken that as some sort of personal challenge and seemed determined to discover what Spencer was. But Spencer had always been safe in the fact that he knew Bobby didn't know angels existed, that the man in fact didn't believe in them, and so there was no chance that he'd ever guess what Spencer was. Now, Bobby knew the truth. He knew angels were real. It wouldn't take long for him to connect the dots from there. Bobby was smart—far smarter than one would think looking at him. There was no doubt in Spencer's mind that Bobby would realize that he was at least part angel. He knew Spencer was a 'mix breed', so he'd know he wasn't a full angel. He'd realize the implications of that, too. How was he going to react to it? How would it change things? Would he still want to maintain their friendship? Or, and this thought terrified Spencer, would he decide that Spencer truly was something to hunt now? That thought left Spencer feeling sick. It was the thought that had kept him away for these past months. He didn't know if he could handle that after all these years. He didn't know what he'd do if he looked at a man who had become such a strangely good friend to him and the cold eyes of a hunter looked back.

Spencer gave a disgusted snort and zipped his bag shut with a sharp twist of his wrist. Standing around here worrying wasn't going to get him answers to any of those questions. They were the same questions he'd plagued himself with for the past year and he wasn't going to magically come up with any answers now. The only way he was going to get them answered was by gathering his courage and going out there.

Now that his bags were packed, he turned his attention to getting himself comfortable. Where he was going he wasn't going to be known as Dr. Reid there, not really. He didn't have to put on the careful persona he wore to work every single day. But, at the same time, he wasn't quite going to be fully himself, either. There were very few places he had that freedom and only one person he had it around. Still, this friend came awfully close. Spencer smiled at that thought as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled off his tie. He traded those out for a t-shirt Garcia had given him as a gift last Christmas and which he usually only wore around the house. It had angel wings on the front and proclaimed 'The Angels Have the Phone Box'. She got it for him because of their mutual love of Doctor Who. He loved to wear it for his own amusement. Next, he switched his slacks for well-worn jeans. Then he pulled his hair back into a messy ponytail and he grabbed the thick black zip up sweater that Derek had left here three years ago and never took back. When he was done he took a look in the mirror and smiled at himself. The clothes weren't that big of changes, not really, yet they were enough to change his look. Enough that even his team would probably have to do a double take to recognize him.

A wave of his hand had his rucksack appearing in his hand. He lifted the strap up and pulled it over his shoulder. Okay. He had everything. Clothes, toiletries, the gifts—he never went there without gifts. Running down the mental checklist, Spencer gave a nod. Then he went around his apartment and locked everything down. He unplugged things that didn't need plugged in, shut off all the lights, checked the locks one last time. He was ready to go. Drawing in a deep breath, he let it out slowly, and before it was done he vanished from the room with only a soft rustle of feathers to mark his exit.

CXCX

Spencer didn't head straight to Bobby's house as he usually would've. It had become normal for him to fly right to his front porch, or if it was the middle of the night, right to the living room. He'd learned ages ago where the spare blankets were and Bobby had told him he was free to make himself at home on the couch whenever he needed. Today, though, Spencer thought a little more discretion was called for, at least until he knew just how things were going to go. So he flew to the edge of Bobby's property and walked the rest of the way.

He wasn't all that surprised to find the door opening before he even reached the porch. He'd heard the dog barking and knew that would've alerted his friend.

Nerves had him stopping a few feet away. If he needed to make a hasty exit, best to be a little bit away. Things looked good so far, though. There was no gun in sight. No weapons of any sort that he could see. That was a positive sign. Spencer repeated that over and over in his mind as he planted his feet and lifted his face to look up at the serious, stern looking man in front of him. "Hello, Bobby."

There was a brief moment of silence. Then, Bobby snorted and said, in that gruff voice of his that gave nothing away, "Long time no see."

Spencer adjusted his bag over his shoulder and gave Bobby a smile that he knew was hesitant around the edges. "Too long, Singer."

"Was beginning to think some Hunter finally killed you."

"Not yet." Still, he didn't move. He stayed where he was and tried not to squirm underneath Bobby's scrutiny. At the same time, he observed his friend in return, trying to seek out any sign of what Bobby was thinking or feeling.

With his usual tact, Bobby looked him over from head to toe and declared "Well something must've happened. You look like ten miles of bad road, mutt."

The familiar nickname had Spencer's smile turning a little more honest and some of the tension bleeding out of him. He knew what his use of that nickname meant. Bobby had jokingly called him that for the first time years ago when they'd been playing their game of trying to guess Spencer's heritage and, in a moment of honesty, Spencer had admitted he was a mix, a mutt. After that, Bobby had called him mutt to joke with him, to make him smile sometimes or make him laugh. It had kind of grown from there as their friendship had grown and now it came out for not just teasing, but affection too. If Bobby was using it, he couldn't be all that mad. Spencer adjusted his bag again and let his smile grow warmer. "You're always so kind, old man." He teased in return.

Bobby snorted at that. "If you're coming for kindness, you came to the wrong house." He declared. He gave Spencer one last look over and shook his head, huffing a bit and turning enough to open up the doorway. "Get on in here before that rain in the distance comes in. I just put on a fresh pot."

Despite the situation, it was simple and easy for Spencer to go inside this house, to make himself at home in one of the chairs at the kitchen table just as he'd done countless times before. He set his bag down by his feet so his hands were free while still keeping it close enough to grab and make that quick escape if it still proved necessary. Watching Bobby go through the motions of preparing two cups of coffee was oddly relaxing. It was normal and familiar to him. Spencer said nothing while he waited. He'd wait until they were both settled in here, coffee in hand, before any discussion started. They'd had many a talk sitting at this kitchen table with coffee or alcohol.

All too soon Bobby was bringing their cups over to the table and taking his own seat. Spencer watched him discreetly while adding sugar to his cup. Bobby was looking just as well as ever. A few extra lines on his face that Spencer thought might be stress, but really, that was to be expected with all that was going on right now. He knew that Bobby would be doing everything he could to help the Winchesters. He'd be worrying about them. There was no one alive that meant more to him than those boys did. Bobby didn't let people in easily. Those two, though, had wormed their way into his heart a long, long time ago.

Once he had his coffee mixed the way he wanted, Spencer cradled it between his hands and sat back in his chair. He drew one leg up until the heel of his shoe rested on the edge of the chair. His body language spoke of a casual relaxation that even those who knew him might be fooled by. He'd learned a long time ago, from a master, on how to give off the image he wanted to. How to play on people's perceptions of it. It came in handy. Right now, it masked the nerves and fear that still coiled down inside of his stomach. But when he finally spoke, unable to bear the heavy silence, his tone was at odds with the rest of him, far too serious to be casual. "I'm sorry I've been absent." The apology felt necessary. He really hadn't liked deliberately staying away like this. "I thought it might be best, at least for a little while."

"I aint stupid, boy." Bobby said bluntly. "Didn't take me long to figure out why you were staying away."

Spencer made himself stay still, stay in this chair and not run away. He shrugged one shoulder nervously and took a small sip of his coffee. "Can you blame me for being worried?"

The scoff he got was pure Bobby. "No. But I can blame you for being stupid."

That had Spencer's eyebrows shooting up.

Scowling, Bobby shook his head. "For someone so damn smart, you sure got your dumb moments. I didn't kill you when I thought you was part monster. What makes you think I'd kill you for being part angel?"

And there it was, right out there in the open. The one thing that Spencer had worked so very hard to keep secret his entire life. The one thing he'd been told to always make sure no one ever found out. Hearing it said out loud like that sent an instinctive wave of fear through him. He fought it back, pushing it down. "If you know what I am, I imagine you know just how my kind is viewed." Spencer said in a surprisingly steady voice.

"I did some reading, refreshed my memory."

"Then you'll understand when I say it wasn't just you I was worried about."

"Yeah." Bobby gave him a look of understanding and nodded. "Figured that out pretty quick. I aint after telling anyone, mutt. Who I'm friends with aint no one's business but mine."

One thing Spencer knew absolutely was that Bobby's word was solid. If he said something, he meant it. He wasn't the type of person to say things he didn't mean and he wasn't one to lie. Hearing Bobby say that he didn't plan on telling anyone, hearing him use the word _friends_, went a long way towards uncoiling the tight knot of fear that had lived in Spencer's stomach for so long now. "Thank you." He had to turn his gaze away from the man for a moment to keep him from seeing the emotion that would be flashing through his eyes. He busied himself with adding another spoonful of sugar to his slightly bitter coffee and swirling it around, taking a drink to test the flavor, using the time to gather his composure. Bobby let him, saying not a word. When he was sure he had himself under control and could speak without his voice betraying him, he looked up once more. "So, I imagine you've probably got a few questions. I'll answer them as best as I can. I should warn you, though, there are some things I won't answer and I need you to respect it if I say no." On that, he would remain firm, no matter what. "If you can't, I'm sorry, but I'm gone. As important as our friendship is, there are some things that are even more so."

"I'm guessing asking about your Daddy would be at the top of that list."

"You'd be right." Briefly, Spencer's hands clenched around his mug. "Nephilim aren't exactly _allowed. _I'm putting myself at enough risk by trusting you with _my_ secret, something I've been taught practically from birth to never let anyone know. I'm not going to risk him, too."

"Fair enough." Bobby agreed. He lifted his mug, tipping it in a sort of 'cheers' movement, and then he took a long drink before setting it back down. Then he surprised Spencer completely by gesturing down at the bag at his feet and saying "So, what'd you bring me this time?"

Spencer sat there for a moment and just stared at him. That hadn't been what he'd expected at all. He'd been so sure that Bobby would have countless questions. That he'd want to know what Spencer's powers were like, what a nephilim was capable of, or even questions about angels in general. But Bobby wasn't asking any of that. He was just sitting there with this expectant look on his face, waiting to see what it was that Spencer had brought for him, like absolutely nothing had changed. Like it wasn't any big deal that he was sitting with a nephilim that Heaven would want to smite if his existence was known. In that moment, Spencer had never appreciated Bobby Singer more. The very last bit of tension drained from Spencer and he knew he was practically beaming at the man. "You're an amazing and unique individual, Robert Singer."

The scowl he got only made his smile grow, which had Bobby rolling his eyes and grumbling. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Stow the mush, idjit. Let's see what you brought."

Still grinning, Spencer reached down for his bag and the presents that were inside.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for the reviews, favs and follows, folks! I'm glad people like this so far :) I hope this chapter holds up!_

_By the way, before anyone suggests it, none of this is intended to be slash in this story, though in later ones I will have slash (C'mon, Destiel is totally canon, folks) But right now, this story has no slash in it. It's all friendly. And these stories will NOT end up being a Spencer/Sam slash. I don't ship those two. Just to clear that up :)_

_Don't forget to let me know what you think and let me know what you'd like to see in future stories. There'll be more coming after this!_

* * *

><p>Even after Spencer's confession, it was surprisingly easy for the two to settle in to their normal routine. Bobby was pleased with the fact that Spencer had quite a bit of time off to spend and he was equally pleased with the gifts that Spencer had brought. You could never go wrong with rare lore books and an ancient text. All it took was pulling out the books for their coffee time conversation to jump right into the familiar area of lore and research and that was it. They spent hours discussing what was in there, even falling back on a few familiar debates that they'd carried on through the years. They debated the best way to take down a banshee, preferred sigils to ward against demons, and fell into an in depth discussion on the lore for ciguapa. That discussion carried them through till dinner, which Spencer brought with just a wave of his hand. He couldn't help but grin a little when Bobby only raised his eyebrows at the display before continuing on with their discussion. They kept going until the need for sleep finally hit them both and Spencer practically passed out on the couch.<p>

The next day wasn't much different. Bobby answered a few phone calls here and there for people, helping out here and there. Usually he was pretty good about knowing the answer. For the ones he didn't know off the top of his head, ones he might've usually researched, Spencer helped fill in the blank.

A few of those calls, Spencer couldn't help but notice, seemed to be from Bobby's surrogate sons. At least, that was how Spencer thought of them in his head. From what he'd been able to hear from Bobby's end of the calls it sounded like the Winchesters were getting some mixed signals from what they were trying to hunt. Spencer gathered that there were all the signs of some low level demon activity in the area, but the two dead bodies that were now in the morgue weren't exactly fitting usual demon deaths. Spencer actually paused in what he was doing—checking over one of the translations that Bobby had done on an old text—when he heard that part. He waited until Bobby had hung up the phone and come back over before he probed, though. He tried to keep it casual, glancing up as he asked "Trouble?"

Bobby gave his head a small shake as he sat back behind his desk again. Spencer was seated off to one side, taking up only the edge with his work, while Bobby had been using the main part. "Aint sure." The older hunter finally answered. He looked like he was debating for a second before his expression firmed and he looked right at Spencer. "They got two bodies in the morgue there that don't fit typical demon deaths. The boys say they look like the work of a werewolf, only, something about it seems off to em. An what're the odds of demons and werewolves messing around in the same area at the same time?"

That was true. Most supernatural beings tended to either steer clear of one another or duke it out for the territory. Sharing space wasn't something that happened all that often. Spencer chewed on his bottom lip and tipped his head. "Could it be a cover?"

"That's what I'm thinking. Demons covering up their work to look like werewolf attacks." Bobby agreed. "Only, since when are these bastards that organized? An what the hell are they doin' that they're covering it up like this?"

Spencer sighed. "Nothing good." He wished he had a better answer. The whole thing sounded more than just a little worrisome.

The frustrated sigh from Bobby showed he felt the same. "Trouble finds those two like nothing else I know. An they're too damn far away for me to pull their asses out of the fire."

"What about their angel?" Spencer asked hesitantly. A group of demons shouldn't be any sort of real worry with their angel there with them.

This time the noise Bobby made was more annoyed and disgusted than anything else. He picked up his mug of coffee and scowled at it. "Apparently Feathers is too busy to lend em a hand right now, so they're just going in on their own. Idjits." Underneath that grumbling was worry, though. More than just a little. Spencer could see it and he could feel it coming off of Bobby in waves. The grumbling and gruffness was just a cover. He didn't want to admit just how much this whole thing bothered him. And if Bobby was that worried about it, Spencer knew there would be a damn good reason behind it. He didn't worry for nothing.

That was the reasoning Spencer gave for the stupidity that came out of his mouth next. "I could go keep an eye on things. If you want."

Mentally, he cursed himself. What the hell was he thinking? Offering to go and keep an eye on the _Winchesters_! Had all of his self-preservation skills just gone out the window the minute he came here to Bobby's place? Spencer didn't take back the offer, though. He sat back in his chair and carefully set down the text in his hands. He could see that Bobby wanted to dismiss his offer the instant it came out of his mouth. But the older hunter wasn't stupid and he knew better than to just discount any offers of help. Especially when it concerned 'his boys'. There wasn't much that Bobby wouldn't do for those two. Spencer watched all these thoughts play back and forth over Bobby's face in just the span of a few seconds. Eventually, he settled on a rather neutral look, though his eyes stayed sharp on Spencer. "Thought you were trying to avoid the God Brigade?"

Spencer shrugged one shoulder as casually as he could manage. "My shields should hold fine." _I hope_. "If I keep them up, any angel won't realize what I am."

"I can't ask you to do this, mutt."

A small smile touched Spencer's lips. No, Bobby was too good of a friend to ask him to do something dangerous like this. But that same friendship meant that he had the right to call in favors like this. He had even more rights than most, actually. There was a debt owed between them that Spencer knew he could never pay back. But he could try. "You don't have to ask, Singer. Now, where are they?"

For one brief moment Bobby just stared at him. Then Spencer saw as he made the only real choice there was here. "It's an out of the way town called Ballard. Last I knew, they were checking in at the Midnight Motel out on the edge of town."

* * *

><p>Finding the boys took no time at all. Once he knew the general area to look, seeking them out was a simple thing. When Spencer found them, though, they weren't at the Midnight Motel like Bobby had said they should be. Instead, he found them in a rundown warehouse out on the outskirts of town, up to their necks in trouble.<p>

He knelt on the ground by a broken part of the door and peeked at the scene inside. What he saw made him flinch. Sam was tied down to an altar in the middle of the warehouse with a witch currently carving something into his stomach while seven, _seven_, lower level demons stood impatiently behind her, and Dean was on the far right of the room, sitting with his back against a support beam and his wrists tied together around it. Boy, Bobby wasn't kidding when he said trouble finds these two like nothing else. There was magic in the air here, darker magic, and Spencer had a few guesses as to what was being carved on the younger Winchester, none of which were good. Spencer gave another quick scan of the warehouse and the surrounding area to make sure there was nothing to take him by surprise. Then, with the only plan he could come up with in the limited timeframe here—they needed to stop this before the spell or whatever the witch was doing was completed—he took a deep breath and prepared himself for what he was going to have to do. There was no time to go and get Bobby for help. He needed to act, now.

A thought and a soft flutter and Spencer was in the shadows behind the post Dean was tied to. He smothered a smile when he saw the older Winchester had been carefully rubbing the rope against the post in an effort to break it. He hadn't gotten very far, but he had managed to find the one spot on the post that might actually do the job. But he wasn't doing it now. His hands were perfectly still and his head was starting to turn, as if he'd felt or heard Spencer's arrival. Spencer quickly leaned in and whispered a quick "Shh!" to warn him not to talk. No need to draw any unwanted attention over here. The witch and the demons were currently focusing on Sam and that was how he needed them to stay. Thankfully, Dean seemed to catch that and he not only kept quiet, he didn't turn around anymore, either.

Spencer checked to make sure the demons were still distracted and then he leaned in close to murmur. "I'm a friend of Bobby's. I'm going to cut the rope and let you free, but I need you to stay like you're still tied for a minute until I get the witches distracted. You have any weapons on you?"

"Knife. Inside jacket." Dean murmured back so softly Spencer could barely hear it.

"Good. We need to take them out before we focus on your brother. She's already started the spell, so we can't just take him and run. All of them except the woman at the front are demons, so don't hesitate to take them out." Spencer pulled out his own knife and very carefully cut at the rope holding Dean in place. He didn't want to alert the others to his presence by using any power. So far, they hadn't noticed him, and he wanted to keep it that way until the last second.

Spencer reached out and gave Dean's arm a careful squeeze. Then, with a final deep breath to prepare himself, he _moved_, going from squatting beside Dean to standing right by the witch. Spencer didn't give himself time to regret what he had to do here. No time to hesitate or flinch back from the necessary bloodshed. This witch had signed her death warrant the instant she'd dealt with demons; Spencer could see the taint of it all over her soul. There was no hope for saving her. The instant he appeared at the woman's side, he struck, his knife flashing out and permanently silencing her. He yanked the knife back out spun to meet the demons around her. Off to the side, he saw Dean moving and heard the cries as the demons realized they were being attacked from both sides. The two men had surprise on their side and it gave them the advantage. Spencer took out three quickly and Dean had already taken out two before the hunter was thrown across the room. A twist and the dodge of a kick brought Spencer close enough to take out the next demon, the one who had flung Dean back.

In no time at all they were left with only one demon and Spencer had no doubt that Dean would handle it just fine. He left the hunter to it and spun to take care of more important things. Sam was still lying where they'd left him, blood dripping from the cuts on his skin. He wasn't even twitching around anymore. If Spencer hadn't been able to see his soul still glowing brightly inside of him, he would've been afraid that the young hunter was already dead. As it was, it was too close. Way too close. Spencer hurried forward and stood over Sam, hands held out over him without actually touching him, his senses trained on the man and the magic pouring out of him, filling the air around him. _Dammit_. He hadn't been able to see, before, but he could see now what they'd done. They'd set Sam up as a sacrifice to raise a demon. The _idiots_. Hadn't they realized who the hell they had on their altar?

There was sound behind him and Spencer could feel Dean come rushing forward. "Wait!" Spencer said quickly, one hand held out to stop the man from racing to his brother. He couldn't risk anyone else touching him. Not yet. Not until he had this taken care of. But he couldn't take care of it here. Though the witch was gone and the main link to the spell was broken, there was enough residual magic in the air here that Spencer didn't dare try anything yet. "The spell's still active and I can't risk you touching him until I've had a chance to fix it."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean demanded.

He didn't have time for this. Spencer could see more of the spell now and it was going to be dangerous as hell to try and fix this. Dangerous because using his grace in this room right now could have some pretty bad consequences, yet he couldn't remove Sam from the room without fixing this first. Spencer looked back at Dean and saw the stubborn look on his face, the anger and worry right out there in the open, and he did the only thing he could do. "I'm sorry." With a wave of his hand, he sent Dean to Bobby's, leaving Spencer and Sam alone.

When he turned back he was surprised to see that Sam's eyes were open and watching him. There was far more clarity there than Spencer had expected. Sam wasn't too far gone yet. He was still watching and paying attention. His brain was still working enough to notice what was going on around him and that the person over him was someone he didn't know—someone that had just sent his brother away with a simple gesture. "Who are you?" Sam demanded in a voice that was low and hoarse, the words just slightly slurred.

"I'm a friend of Bobby Singer." That was the simplest explanation he could give. He couldn't waste time for more on that. Spencer met the hazy eyes below him and tried to keep his own gaze strong and steady. "This spell is a pretty serious one, Sam. They were about halfway done before I managed to stop them. From the looks of it, they were trying to raise a demon and use you as the sacrifice. I can help you with this, but it's not going to be pleasant at first. The spell is going to feel what I'm doing and it's going to fight. I need you to try not to fight back. It's going to hurt and you're going to want to fight it, but _don't_. Let it go and let me take it." There was no room for hesitation on his part. Spencer didn't give himself a chance to be afraid or to back out. With hands far steadier than he felt, he reached out and laid one over Sam's eyes and the other splayed directly over the cuts on his chest. A jolt ran through him like lightning as the magic felt the connection being made.

The pain was instantaneous. Spencer locked his knees and clenched his jaw. He poured power into his hands, power and grace, reaching _down_ and _in_, chasing down every inch of the foreign power that was residing in Sam Winchester's body. He heard Sam's weak scream and delved even deeper. This magic was supposed to sacrifice Sam to a demon and the feel of someone that wasn't that demon had it lashing out at him. Spencer took the blows and used it to draw the spell bits in more and more until he had every single bit of it wrapped up. Agony raced through his body as it fought him and fought him hard. He began the slow, laborious process of drawing it carefully out of Sam, trying to heal the damage left behind as he went. Minutes, hours, he had no idea how long it took. All he knew was the unrelenting pain and the laborious _pull_ as he drew more and more out until, _finally_, it was out of him and Sam was slumping down on the altar, his body exhausted. Now that the magic was free, it took nothing more than a thought and a quick _twist_ and it was gone.

Looking up, he saw Sam's tired eyes watching him, any mistrust in them long gone. There was only concern there now. Concern and exhaustion. That exhaustion was something that Spencer could understand. He didn't have time for his own, though. Once more he laid his hands over Sam's injuries and he extended just enough grace to seal the wounds. Looking up at Sam, he gave him a tired half-smile. "What do you say we get you home, Winchester? I imagine your brother is driving Singer to distraction by now."

He was pleasantly surprised to see that Sam didn't flinch, didn't even blink, when Spencer clasped his arm and flew them out of there.

* * *

><p>They landed in Bobby's living room amidst noise and chaos. Spencer had aimed carefully so they landed with Sam lying on the couch and Spencer kneeling beside it, still holding on to him. The air around them was filled with furious shouting, but Spencer ignored it, able to clearly make out Bobby's voice arguing back just as loudly. No one had noticed them quiet yet and Spencer took advantage of it to run one last check over Sam. His injuries were healed, though he'd need to recover from the blood loss and from the strength that the spell had leeched from him. But he was going to be just fine. Satisfied with that, Spencer nodded, meeting Sam's eyes once more. "You'll be okay." He murmured.<p>

Bracing one hand on the arm of the couch, he pushed himself, annoyed with how tired he found himself. Taking on a mostly finished spell like that was dangerous and draining. If his Father were here, he'd be absolutely furious with him, and Spencer resolved to not let him know about this whole fiasco.

The others finally noticed their presence in the room just as Spencer stood up straight. The reactions he got were two entirely different ones. Dean spat out a furious curse and rushed forward towards his brother while Bobby's brow furrowed in concern and he reached out to help brace Spencer, who stumbled a bit when he took his first step forward. Spencer drummed up a smile for his friend and patted his arm to try and ease the worry he could see. "I'm all right, old man." He murmured, lips quirking into a tired smile. "A bit drained, but all right."

"Sit down before you fall on your face." Bobby snapped. There was worry underlying his words that made Spencer's smile grow a little more.

Now that sounded like a good idea. Spencer spared enough energy to wave his hand and conjure up a chair. He let Bobby help him forward and gratefully collapsed down into it. Rolling his head to the side, he smiled up at the older hunter. "Is there any more of that whiskey from last night? I could use a glass or two, I think. It's been a long time since I've messed with any kind of spell work and that one was a rather strong one."

Bobby started towards the desk even as he grumbled. "What do I look like, your maid?"

"I'd rather not see you in a dress, thank you." Spencer shot back.

Anything further was cut off by a low growl. Dean straightened up from where he'd been crouching by his brother and his glare had deepened, going back and forth between the two of them now. "Someone better start telling me what the hell is going on here!"

"You watch your tone in my house, boy." Bobby said sharply.

"Maybe if someone would explain, I wouldn't have to yell." Dean shot back. "There's no telling what he did to Sammy after he sent me out of there, Bobby. Some strange dude shows up and starts kicking ass and then freaking teleports me out of there, leaving him alone with my baby brother, and you better believe I'm gonna be pissed."

"If you'd cool it, maybe he'd get a chance to explain!" The harsh look Bobby gave Dean was enough to have the hunter's jaw snapping shut. Satisfied, he nodded and went back to pouring the whiskey into a glass. "The kid's my guest here an a damn good friend and he just put himself at a lot of risk to save you dumbasses. Least you could do is show some gratitude."

Spencer reached out and lightly laid a hand on Bobby's arm when the older hunter got close again. "Bobby, it's fine." He murmured. He took the glass that Bobby held out and downed a quick mouthful. The heat hit his gut and spread, numbing just a tiny bit of the ache inside. Blowing out a breath, he eased down a little more into the chair. The alcohol had steadied him just enough that he felt capable of looking over at the two hunters by the couch. Dean was glaring at him, looking more annoyed than Spencer thought he had the right to, considering if it wasn't for him these two would still be there. Sam, however, still had that look of concern and exhaustion that he'd had back at the warehouse. He'd managed to sit up, now, though he looked just a little shaky. His body was carefully tucked into the corner of the couch and Spencer could see a small shiver run down him. With a small wave, a blanket appeared and draped over him, covering him up. "You'll need to be careful." Spencer said, speaking directly to Sam. It looked like he was going to be the more reasonable of the two to deal with. "Your body went through a lot back there and you lost some blood. You need food, some orange juice, and rest."

"Thank you." Sam said. His voice was a low, just a bit heavy, like he was half fighting sleep.

As casually as he could, Spencer shrugged. He lifted his glass and finished down the last swallow in there. "At least this explains the strange bodies at the morgue." He tilted his head enough to look to Bobby, who was now leaning against the desk. "It was a group of low level demons, led by a witch, and they were performing a ritual that's used to summon a much higher level demon. It takes so many sacrifices, spaced out over so many different nights. From what I could gather, Sam would've been the final sacrifice, judging by what they carved into his chest. I'm thinking that the ones in the morgue were sacrifices, too, made to look like werewolf victims so that no one would notice the carving on their chests and piece together what was really going on."

"They didn't complete the spell?" Bobby asked quickly.

Spencer shook his head. "No. Close, but no. I pulled the magic out of him and destroyed it. He's clean."

A low snort brought all eyes over to Dean. He was still staring at Spencer and suspicion colored his gaze. "In return for what?"

"Nothing." Spencer said.

"Yeah, right." Scoffing, Dean shook his head. "I know you're type. You're not the first angel we've met and each and every one of em wants _something_. Your kind don't do anything for free."

It took a second for Spencer to squash down the small surge of temper he felt at that. His hand curled around the empty glass he held and for the first time in a long time he fought not to let his body's natural strength through or else he would've ended up crushing the glass between his fingers. "I want nothing." He knew his own voice had gone flat but this human was pushing his patience.

"So you expect me to believe you did this, what, out of the goodness of your heart?"

Spencer could blame it on his exhaustion, or on the stress of everything, but he knew there was no excuse for what he did next. His temper surged and before he could even think about it he found himself on his feet and Dean went flying backwards to crash into the wall. He hung there, pinned, as Spencer stalked furiously forward. Only years of iron control kept his wings from materializing. He could feel them behind him, though. It didn't really click with him that no one else was moving. Sam and Bobby just watched as Spencer stopped himself right in front of Dean and met the idiot hunter glare for glare. Spencer curled his hands into fists on either side of him. "Let me make one thing clear to you here, Winchester. I didn't do this for _you_. I want absolutely nothing from you or your brother. I did this because that man over there is my friend and I owe him a debt I won't ever be able to repay." Spencer snapped, jabbing a finger in Bobby's direction. "I know you've been jerked around by angels and you've got quite a list of issues with them, but don't stand there and dare to paint me with the same brush when you know nothing about me."

His temper felt like it was snapping in the air around him and Spencer knew he had to get out of here before he lost control of it. He spun on his heel and headed straight for the front door without another word, only releasing the power holding Dean when he knew he was a safe distance away. At least outside any damage he might accidentally cause would only be to some broken down vehicles.

* * *

><p>Spencer had no idea how long he spent outside. At first he just walked, tracing a familiar path through the broken down cars, letting his body pace off his temper. But eventually he found his way back towards the main part of the yard and the general area where he usually ended up when he wanted to think. There was always a car here, even if it had changed over the years, and it was always a truck. Spencer had a feeling that Bobby did that on purpose. Either way, he opened the tailgate and sat himself down, just as he'd done countless times over the years. Settled in there, he crossed his legs under him and rested his elbows on his knees. Head in his hands, he stared off into the distance, looking without actually seeing. Instinctively he tightened his shields and pushed his grace down even more as he slipped into an almost meditative trance. No need to announce his presence. Especially if the angel decided to swing by. He had a feeling that Dean would want to call him in, but Spencer trusted that Bobby would have his back in this. He wouldn't let another angel around while Spencer was still here. So, pushing aside those worries, Spencer settled in for what his mother had always called 'a nice think'.<p>

One of the first things he thought of was that he was going to have to apologize to Dean when he went back inside. While the hunter's words had been ill advised and rude, they hadn't been without justification considering all that angels had put the brothers through so far, and they certainly hadn't been bad enough to warrant that little display of temper that Spencer had indulged in. All Dean was really guilty of back there was being protective of his little brother. There was no way Spencer could fault him for that.

If he was going to be brutally honest in all this introspection here, he'd have to admit what was truly bothering him.

He was scared.

After a lifetime spent hiding, there was now someone—a human, a _hunter_—who knew the truth of his heritage. Just as he thought he might come to terms with that, _this_ happened. He'd put himself forward, flown into a crappy situation, saved the freaking _Winchesters_ of all people, healed one of them, and basically revealed himself to the two people in the world who were under the most angelic attention. Granted, neither one knew what he really was. Why would they? They both assumed that he was just a regular angel. They'd seen nothing that would've revealed his human half. But that could prove just as disastrous. If word spread and other angels found out, they might come looking, trying to figure out which angel was 'interfering' here. That would lead them to him as surely as anything else.

Would Bobby be able to convince them that they should keep his presence a secret? They might not be all that understanding of an angel hiding out from Heaven. Would they be more understanding if they knew the truth? If they knew, there was a chance that they'd understand and respect his decision to hide. They'd realize just how important it was.

He couldn't believe he was sitting here thinking of telling two more hunters just what he really was. Especially these two! If his Father ever found out, he'd be absolutely furious, and it really did take a lot to get him to that point. This, though? This would do it. Yet, Bobby trusted them, and Spencer trusted Bobby. Maybe he should ask his opinion.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, Spencer tipped his face up towards the sky and closed his eyes, letting the wind blow across his skin. He sat there for a while and just let the wind blow over and around him. Let it wipe away some of his heavier thoughts. He was still sitting there when he felt and then heard someone making their way towards him. There was no need to turn and look. He knew who that was. Had delved deeply inside of the man today; that was a soul he would always recognize, now.

Sam didn't say anything when he walked up. He was moving slowly but he didn't hesitate to come right up to the truck. There was just a brief pause and then the tailgate dipped as Sam's weight was added to it. The whole time that he settled in, Spencer kept his face uplifted and his eyes closed. He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to talk to anyone yet but he had to admit he was curious as to why Sam came out here. He'd been sure that, if anyone would come out, it would've been Bobby. He hadn't expected it to be Sam. Curiosity kept him still, waiting patiently for Sam to break the silence.

It didn't take very long. Just a few minutes, really. What he said wasn't what Spencer had expected, though. He'd thought for sure that Sam must've been voted to come out here and start asking him questions. Sent out by Dean, maybe, to try and pry and find out just who Spencer was and what he wanted. Instead, what he got was a quiet yet honest "I owe you quite a thank you for all that back there. You saved my life."

Spencer made a noncommittal sound, the only thing that he could think of at the moment. He didn't want gratitude. That hadn't been why he'd done it.

There was another quiet pause, and then, "I know he doesn't show it, but Dean's grateful, too. He's just not that great at showing it."

This time there was no way that Spencer could keep quiet. He found himself snorting out a low laugh before he could stop it. Opening his eyes slightly, he slanted an amused look over at Sam, who was just calmly sitting there watching him with this quiet, serious look, and those same wide eyes that Spencer had noticed earlier. The sarcasm that had built on Spencer's tongue died away in the face of that and he shook his head slightly. "I think it's pretty safe to say your brother doesn't much like me."

Sam's lips curved into a wry grin that was just a bit dim at the edges. "Yeah, well, I don't think he much likes _anyone_ right now."

The slight bitterness and grief in those words was palpable. Spencer let it wash over him and acknowledged it with a small nod. Lips quirked into a slight smirk, Spencer sought to break the tension slightly by teasingly asking "Should I watch out for an angel blade when I go back in there?"

His teasing got more of a reaction than he'd intended. A different one, too. Sam's head shot up and he looked like he was horrified by the suggestion. "No!"

Smiling, Spencer adjusted his arms and dropped his hands down to dangle in front of him, his forearms resting on his knees now. Briefly he patted at Sam's leg. "It's okay, Sam. I was mostly being facetious there. I know he's not like that, and I know that Bobby wouldn't let it happen anyways. Don't worry about it." Tipping his head, he studied Sam's face, trying to read what was written there. There was no anger there, no condemnation, no slyness or deceit that Spencer could see. Nothing about him showed anything but a bit of concern, some gratitude that Spencer tried to ignore, and a tiny bit of the darker things that he had a feeling never stopped haunting the hunter. Reading all of that, Spencer found himself surprised once again by this man. "Is that all you came out here for? Because you felt the need to thank me?"

"And to check on you." Sam smiled as he admitted that, almost sheepishly. "You were pretty tired before. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Well, today was just a day full of the unexpected. A real, honest smile curved Spencer's lips. "You surprise me, Sam Winchester. I assumed you'd come out here to interrogate me. Find out what an Angel of the Lord is doing spending time with an old hunter at some salvage yard."

He watched as Sam shrugged his shoulder. "I trust Bobby and Bobby trusts you. That's good enough for me."

Spencer's mouth dropped open and he stared with open amazement. "That's it?"

"That's it." Sam agreed. He turned his head as well, smiling slightly. "I'll admit, we've met some asshole angels out there recently, Dean had that right. But Bobby's a good judge of character and he told us he's known and trusted you for years. If you want to tell us you're story, you're more than welcome. I'll listen. But I won't push." His smile turned just a bit brittle and his gaze darted away. "Especially not with the only angel so far that hasn't acted like I carry the plague."

It took control for Spencer to smother his wince. Yeah, he could just imagine how angels had treated Sam so far. The boy with the demon blood. Abomination. Those were just some of the things that were whispered about this Winchester. He had a dark past and a dark future in so many different ways. It'd left stains on his soul that Spencer had seen when reaching down inside of him for that spell. There were fresh stains, too, that Spencer knew came from some of the secret things that Sam was indulging with in his spare time. Things that were better left alone. Yet, under all that, was a soul that shone so brightly. A soul that had miraculously managed not to lose faith even with everything that it'd been put through. Even now it shone, pushing against the shadows.

Today seemed to be a day for impulsive decisions. Spencer drew in a heavy breath and, before he could change his mind, he blurted out "I'm not an angel." To avoid the look on Sam's face, Spencer swallowed down the lump in his throat and lifted his eyes back towards the sky. "My father is."

For a brief moment there was just silence and Spencer chewed his lip as he waited for some kind of answer. When it came, it wasn't what he'd expected. "Ah." Sam said the word softly, with an air of knowing and understanding to it, and then said nothing else.

"That's all you have to say?" Spencer asked. Amazed, he turned to Sam again, not quite able to believe his ears. "I sit here and tell you I'm a nephilim, a secret I've kept since I was a child, something that would cause any angel to kill me on sight if they knew, and the only thing you have to say is 'ah'?"

Amusement flashed in Sam's eyes and a corner of his mouth quirked up. "Um…congratulations?"

Congratulations? Spencer mouthed the word like he couldn't quite believe that Sam had said it. Congratulations. That was his response to this? He found out that Spencer was a creature that was immensely powerful, considered so dangerous that his very existence was forbidden, and he said _congratulations_. Spencer couldn't believe it. He stared at Sam for a beat longer and then did the only thing he could do—he threw his head back and laughed, long and loud. The joyous sound echoed around the salvage yard.

When he brought his head back down, he found that Sam was grinning back at him. "You are definitely a unique individual, Winchester."

"I like to think so." He returned cheekily, dimples flashing. "And it's Sam. My friends call me Sam."

Friend. That sounded nice. "Mine call me Spencer."

"Well, Spencer, you think you're about ready to come inside? Bobby was making noises before about finding some dinner."

"Dinner sounds good." Spencer said with a smile. His earlier tension seemed to be completely gone.

The two pushed off of the truck and soon they were on their feet. Spencer reached out and caught Sam's arm before they could move, though. There was something that was bouncing around in his head and he wanted to say it before they got back by the house. This wasn't something he wanted said in front of the others. Sam stopped at his touch and looked down at him, eyebrows furrowing curiously, waiting in silence to see what he wanted.

He knew how hard Sam had had things lately. How painful his life had become. Yet the man still had the compassion to come out and talk to the nephilim he'd never met before and extend a hand of friendship. Stained though his soul was by the things he'd done and some of the things he was still doing, none of it fully diminished his light. Despite how angels had treated him, despite the weight that rested on his shoulders right now, all the good and bad things that were ripping at him down to his soul, despite all of that, he still had it in him to care. To trust. All of that prompted Spencer to do something he never would've thought of doing before. "Listen, I don't hear prayers the way a regular angel does, but I do hear them if they're directed towards me. I'm enough angel for that to work. So, I just wanted to say, if you need me once you and your brother leave, send up a prayer and I'll be there as quickly as I can."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I want to." It was the best answer that he could give. "Besides, your brother has his own angel. It's only fair you have one of your own to call on, even if it is a part-angel freak masquerading as a normal human."

To his surprise, Sam actually eased a little at that, his smile warming. "Seems kind of appropriate to me. The nephilim and the abomination."

That startled him for a moment. He almost protested, wanting to insist that Sam wasn't an abomination. But the simple way the man said it, without any trace of the bitterness that Spencer suspected was usually there, prompted him to let it go this time. Instead, he let out a low, pleased laugh. "I think we're going to be good friends, Sam."


End file.
